Bound by Love
by CTMfan-13
Summary: Based on a prompt from Tumblr: Angela's biological mother sends a letter to the Turners


It had been a lovely day off for Shelagh Turner. At her husband's insistence, she'd done nothing but pamper herself after a long week of deliveries, administration duties and never-ending paperwork.

She had enjoyed a mid-morning lie-in with her husband as soon as Timothy and Angela had headed off to school (where they'd done a bit more than lie around) before he had to go to work. She'd taken a bath, finished the novel she'd been reading, and watched half an hour of television before she became too overwhelmed about not getting anything done.

It was while she was in the kitchen, getting the family dinner started that she heard the door go. Glancing at her watch and realizing it was still only half past one, she knew it couldn't have been either of her children.

"Patrick? What are you doing home?" She met him in the hallway, the little creases in her forehead as prominent as the frown across his own face. "Whatever's the matter?" She ran to him and cupped his cheek, heart pounding with anxiety.

"I've had a...strange day. Can you come sit down, love?" He held her hand as they walked to the sofa and sat side by side, never letting go of one another.

Clearing his throat, Patrick began. "You remember Mrs. Litchcroft, don't you?"

"From the Children's Society?" She asked, her eyes traveling across the room to the chair she'd occupied during their disaster of an interview. "Of course I do."

"Well, she came in to the surgery today."

Shelagh felt a sheen of panic begin to spread through her body. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, Shelagh. Mrs. Litchcroft came by today to drop off this letter." He reached into his breast pocket, procuring a sealed white envelope. "She felt it best to drop off in person."

Shelagh looked at the letter, confused as to why the adoption agency would be contacting them now. Angela was about to turn five in three weeks time, and the last contact they'd had with the society was the day they'd brought her home.

"It's a letter for us. From Angela's birth mother." He heard Shelagh take a sharp breath and gripped her hand tighter. "She went to the society to make inquiries and was given our letter. It's alright, Shelagh. Angela is our daughter, nothing this letter says will change that."

Nodding, she looked from his eyes to the envelope. "What does it say?"

"I didn't read it...I wanted to wait for you. I, um, I don't think I can read it alone." He handed the letter to his wife, watching as she unfolded the paper and began reading aloud, tears evident in her voice.

 _To my daughter's parents:_

 _I'm not exactly sure how to write this letter, but I don't feel that I can move on until I do._

 _My name is Sadie Jones. I recently turned twenty one years old and after years of wanting to know what happened to my daughter, I approached the adoption society and received the letter you wrote me dated Christmas 1960._

 _First and foremost, thank you for your kind words. Though I don't know your last name, where you live, or if this letter will even reach you, I wanted to try. It takes people with a great capacity of love to write a letter like that and yours has brought great comfort to me, something my life has been lacking for the last several years since that day in October 1960._

 _Angela Julienne-a beautiful name-will be nearly five by now. It's strange to think that she's walking and talking, probably even starting school. I only knew her for a few hours, but those hours were the best of my life. I find myself wondering, does she look like you? Would people have any idea that she was born to someone else? Have you told her she's adopted, or will you ever? If you do and she has questions about her beginning, please tell her I loved her. I love her still, even though I know nothing of her than her details at ten weeks old. I imagine to myself that she's inherited my blonde hair and the dark brown eyes of her father. Does she have my trademark freckles? Or the little gap between her front teeth that I used to tease her father about, but secretly loved?_

 _Every day, I've wondered these things, tormented by the "choice" I had to make. Though at the time I didn't get to choose, now that I know she's safe and loved with you, I don't regret it. Please make sure she knows that. From reading your letter, I'm sure you'll be more eloquent when you tell her than I would have been. There's not been a day go by that I haven't thought of her and wanted her to know that she was loved and wanted. But reading your letter, I can see that she already has that._

 _Thank you for loving my daughter and for giving her everything that I cannot. Your family will be in my thoughts and prayers for the rest of my life._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Sadie Jones_

Patrick and Shelagh sat together in silence, their hands finding each other's once again and gripping fiercely. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his handkerchief and dried the tears on Shelagh's face. She turned her face into his palm as she took a deep breath.

"After all this time, I still forget that she didn't come from us."

"So do I...but that letter did get one thing right. She's safe, and loved, and cared for. And one day, when she's old enough to understand, we will tell her that she has two mothers who love her more than anything else in the world."

She nodded as he leaned close, kissing her gently but passionately. Before she could respond to his kiss, the front door slammed shut, informing them that their children were home. They separated quickly, Patrick placing the letter back into his breast pocket.

"I'll put the kettle on." Shelagh whispered as she stood, gathering herself and straightening her clothes.

"Mummy! Mummy! Look what I- Daddy! You're home!" the excited voice of the youngest Turner echoed down the hallway. He barely had time to react before she was racing into his arms.

"Hello, my angel. How was school?"

"Oh Daddy! It was such a lovely day! We read a new book and then we got to draw ALL afternoon!"

The voice of his sixteen year old son came from the kitchen hatch. "Gee, I wish I was able to do nothing but draw all day.."

"You had your chance, Timothy." His wife said, moving around her son to place the tea tray on the hatch. "Besides, I don't think medical schools admit students who doodle all day."

Angela abandoned her father as soon as she heard her mother's voice. "Mummy! Mummy! Look what I made today!"

Patrick made his way to their bedroom, placing the envelope in his bedside table before heading back to the sitting room. One day soon, they would have to explain their daughters origins to her. But as he watched his family interact through the doorway, he realized today was not that day, and he sat down to join them.


End file.
